All That I'm Living For
by DivinelyUnrefined
Summary: What do you live for? What would you die for? What would you choose if the world was threatening to end? Follow destiny or your heart? Can Natalie teach such to Castiel when she's struggling herself? CastielxOC Rated M, just in case.
1. Warnings

_Not too much to say. First story on and its a Supernatural story; a CastielxOC romance story. It takes place after Dean goes to Hell and starts at the beginning of season four. It will be in first person, so I hope you all enjoy. If you do, please review and if you don't, please tell me what I can improve on-constructive criticism, no flaming, be an adult. Thank you. Enjoy._

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do NOT own Supernatural or its characters. I just own Natalie, other OCs, and some plot points in the story._

**_Warning: _**_Swearing, some sexual content, alcohol and drug references, gore, violence, and crude humor._

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><p><strong><span>Chapter One: Warnings<span>**

Loud music reverberated throughout the house from my second-story bedroom mixing with the sound of the air conditioner that was turned to a very low level since it wasn't very hot today; it hardly ever was in Portland, Oregon. My fair hair, which was always tied up, was bound back in a messy bun and my bangs were pinned away from my face as my light eyes focused intently on my current project. I was perched on a stool, my right hand steadily and smoothly working with my oil paints, specifically a brown and green mixture; my other hand was holding my platter of paints that was smudged with various hues. While doing so, I hummed lightly to the music that playing in the background.

I was engrossed in what I was doing, but not so engrossed that the chilling sensation of someone watching me went unnoticed.

Instantly, my body tensed, my brows furrowed, and my hand stilled in what I was doing. Quickly, I spun around, after gingerly placing my items down, throwing my elbow out only to have it expertly caught and I became face to face with a familiar baby face and a pair of caramel peepers.

"Gabriel?"

The male, whose chestnut brown locks were smoothed back, smirked that trademark smirk of his—one that was filled with haughtiness and mischief and that I grown up to. "Hello, gorgeous."

Upon narrowing my eyes, I used my free hand to aim it at his jaw.

Once again my attack was foiled as Gabriel grabbed my fist; his smirk widened. He clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. "What kind of person greets an old friend by attacking them?" Then, he pulled away, releasing me, to gaze down at his hands; he scowled a little. "…And covers them in paint?"

With a scoff and a roll of my eyes, I stood from my stool, strolled away from my easel, and crossed to my desk. I grabbed a washcloth and wiped the wet paint from my hands. That was before I tossed him the same cloth to do the same as I did. "Here," _You big baby., _I added dryly to myself.

He caught it and wiped his hands, muttering a 'thank you'.

Just nodding and turning down my music since we were sort of yelling at each other, I turned to face him and leaned up against my desk. I crossed my arms over my chest. "What are you doing here, Gabe?" I asked dully. I scowled at him when he tossed the washcloth to the floor carelessly—he was such a slob; can't count how many times I had to clean up numerous candy wrappers because of him. It only deepened when he plopped on my bed to lounge—I had just made it and he knocked Teddie over.

The brunet feigned hurt, a hand clasping over his chest. "Oh, my dear Natalie! I'm hurt! No 'hello' kiss or hug? I'm hurt, deeply, deeply hurt, young lady. Cuts me right here," He pointed to where his heart was, pretending to grimace. He smirked a little. "Though, I do appreciate the outfit." he added with a point.

I deadpanned—I only blushed a little as I realized I was just in a small black tank top and denim short-shorts covered in paint.

Gabriel was always one for theatrics.

"Are you done?" I said dryly.

He pouted. "You're no fun. You're getting boring in your old age, Miss. Wilson." he huffed, pulling out a _Twix_ bar from his inner jacket pocket and biting into it after unwrapping it halfway.

"Fuck you!" I snapped, my cheeks flushed, grabbing the nearest item on my desk behind me—turned out to be a pencil sharpener—and chucking it at his head angrily. "I'm only twenty-four, you asshole!" Much to my dismay, the angel—yes, an _angel_—caught it with ease.

Gabriel just laughed at me, making me scowl further, as he placed the sharpener on my night table. Then, he casually strolled up to my unfinished painting on my easel of a handsome male with short very dirty blonde hair, slight five o'clock shadow, and bright hazel eyes. An unreadable expression crossed his face—all I could tell was that it was grave and it unsettled me. I stared at him intently with an arched brow—what was with that look?

"Dean Winchester, huh?" he said after a moment.

I gave a small start. How did he-? "Uh, yeah," I replied slowly, perplexed, my eyebrows creasing. "You've met him?"

I didn't recall Gabriel or Dean mentioning crossing each other's paths—I did my best to not cringe upon thinking of the second male.

Gabriel gave a nonchalant shrug. "In passing."

My blue optics narrowed suspiciously. "Oh, yeah, like that doesn't sound suspicious." I retorted, sarcasm dripping from my voice. Gabriel just peered back at me, smirking cheekily and toothily.

I rolled my eyes—obviously prying was going to lead me nowhere—and placed my hands on my hips. I repeated sternly, "What are you doing here, Gabriel?"

"Can't I just come and visit my sweet Natalie Wilson without having an ulterior motive?" the brunet claimed, his smirk widening. He pinched my cheek just to annoy me further. I swatted his hand away, my cheeks flushed.

"Gabriel, I'm being serious." I told him in a warning tone—I honestly felt I was talking to a rebellious teenager more often than not. "I haven't seen you in months and then, you suddenly appear for just a random visit? That's not like you, so what's up? And be honest. I know that's hard for you," He glowered at me for that. "But try."

"Like I said," he started, making a face. "You're getting boring in your old age, Miss. Wilson."

"_Gabriel,_"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, looking away from me. The angel was grave again, but even more so and I fidgeted nervously abruptly. I had asked him to be serious, but why did he look so solemn and why did it fill my chest with so much dread? "I just wanted to warn you," he mumbled.

I blinked, taken off guard. "W-Warn me? About wha-what?" I questioned warily.

Gabriel was silent, scowling at my wall. I studied his face, his eyes, and his body language. I couldn't read him at all and generally I could; I had known him for a long time after all. All I knew was that it scared me; he hardly ever acted like this.

I started to tremble a little and my breath started to come out shakily against my will. "G-Gabe, say something, you're starting to sc-scare me." I stammered anxiously. I knew I sounded like a meek child, but I couldn't help it.

Finally, after some more coaxing, he looked to me and stared me straight in the eye. Swallowing hard, I took aback at the various emotions in the eyes that I had lov-I had known for so long. He finally spoke, his voice low, "Things are going to get pretty nasty around here soon and I want you to be careful, I want you to take care of yourself, Natalie."

My breath hitched in my throat. Unsteadily, I touched his arm. "What are y-you t-talking about, Gabriel? What do y-you mean "things are going to get nasty"? Wha-What's going to happen?" I choked out. Did what he was saying have anything to do with how weird the world was getting recently, how it almost seemed on edge, preparing for something terrible to happen? If it did, why would it concern an angel? Or Gabriel in general? He had never once warned me about something; not when the Devil's Gate opened or anything. So why the warning now?

"I wish I could tell ya, babe, but I can't." Gabriel admitted reluctantly, shaking his head. "I wish I could even force ya to stay here in this house, but I couldn't do that to you or expect you to listen, so _be careful_."

"Gabriel, I-" I was cut off by cell phone ringing and vibrating on my desk from behind. I nearly jumped out of my skin and snapped my head to the contraption.

'_Bobby Singer'_ flashed on the caller ID screen and I made face. I wanted to continue this conversation with Gabriel to find out what the Hell he was talking about, but Bobby only called me if something important came up—and occasionally, to check up on me—so I was torn. However, when I glanced back to the angel in my bedroom, he gave me a hollow smile, his hands stuffed into his jeans' pockets, and nudged his head in the direction of my phone telling me to answer it.

I sighed deeply. "We're not finished." I told him before picking up my cell. I flipped it open, pressed the green "Answer" button and placed it my ear. "Hey, Bobby. What's up?" I answered.

"…_Hey, Nat._" My heart nearly stopped upon hearing the almost breathless reply of a male's voice that I'd never hear again.

But that wasn't possible. He was dead, stone, cold dead, and he had been for four months; I had witnessed his death with my own two eyes. The memory of his death was imbedded into my brain like a tattoo and continuously haunted my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day. I remembered his screams of agony, all that blood as invisible creatures called Hellhounds tore him apart like a rag doll, how helpless his younger brother and I were, how that demonic bitch cackled at his excruciating murder, and how hard I cried that day and many days afterwards.

Thus, there was no way he could be alive, there was no way he could be on the other end. And even if he was, I didn't want to think about how he could be brought from Hell. There were so many horrible ways—demonic possession, shapeshifter, making a deal with a Crossroads Demon or something else to mess with me—and every single one made me angry and made me want to hit or kill something. I had suffered enough because of his passing. It had to be some cruel, supernatural joke. Well, I wouldn't fall for it. The past four months had been painful enough, I didn't want to hurt anymore; he wouldn't it that way, I had to move on.

So, scowling, I pulled my cell phone away from ear and was about to press the red "End" button, but Gabriel's voice stopped me, "Don't hang up."

I snapped my head to him, looking at him shocked and bewildered. He promptly repeated himself but firmer. I arched a brow at his strange—strang_er_—behavior yet, complied. I placed the phone back to my ear, swallowed hard, and said hesitantly, "D-Dean, is…th-that you?"

There came a deep sigh of relief on the other end. "_I honestly thought you were going to hang up me there for a sec._"

"I was going to." I replied honestly.

He chuckled, a sound I had deeply missed even if it sounded a bit nervous and shaky. "_Either way, yeah, its me, Natalie. The real me, in case you're wondering. No tricks, promise._" Dean Winchester said.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I brushed my blonde bangs from my face that had escaped my bobby pins. "Wh-Where…Are you at Bobby's?" I queried with concern. If Dean was really back from the dead, I didn't want him wandering around alone and confused—something he most definitely was. He was a big boy, a skilled hunter, but he was unarmed, so I didn't want him to get hurt either.

"_No, but I am with him._"

Well, that was a relief. It made sense since he was using Bobby's phone—he obviously didn't have one. Though, I was disappointed to hear no mention of his sibling—guess Sam still hadn't contacted anyone.

"Where are you?"

"_We're heading your way to see ya; we need to talk._"

We most certainly did.

"I'll be waiting."

"_Right. See ya soon, Barbie._"

I almost smiled at my old nickname he had dubbed me with from childhood. I was nowhere near a Barbie doll and it normally would irritate me, but I was happy to hear it again; I'd let it slide. "See you, Deano." I returned with his own nickname.

"_Oh, and Natalie?_"

"Hm?"

"_Don't attack me with a knife or dump Holy Water on me, okay? I've had enough of that today._"

"_**I was just makin' sure, ya idjit!**_" spat a familiar gruff, Southern accented male's voice muffled in the background.

Bobby.

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head with a tiny smile, I hung up the phone.

When I did so, I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I was relieved and happy that Dean was alive and he sounded well. Though, I still felt anxious and slightly scared. I had doubts that that was my Dean, but it was still nice to hear his voice again. It was just if he was really back from Hell, how did he come and why? And if that hadn't been him, what lied for me when he reached my home?—Bobby's voice could've been a ruse. Either way, the only way I was going to find out was to wait until they arrived. That made me antsy, but I was a hunter, I had to suck it up and be prepared for anything.

"And so it begins," spoke Gabriel from behind me.

I glanced back again only for my brows to furrow deeply at his gravely expressional face. "What do you mean, Gabe?" I asked.

Saying nothing, the angel approached me. I watch him closely. When he reached me, he leaned down—though, he didn't have to dip too far since I was tall—to kiss my cheek, causing me to blush and stiffen in shock, and whispered somberly in my ear, "Take care of yourself, Natalie Wilson. Hope to see you again."

Shivers ran down my spine and worry welled in my chest. I began to ask what he was talking about, but when I blinked, he was gone.

I frowned, clutching my phone to my chest. "Gabe…"

What the Hell was going on?

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed~! Please review! Much thanks!<em>


	2. So He Returns

_Next chapter~! Thank you to the one person who reviewed; I hope to see more in the future. Anyway, I know this chapter is short, but I didn't want it to overlap into the next one, which should be longer. I hope you like it. Please enjoy~!_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do NOT own Supernatural or its characters. All I own is Natalie, other OCs, and some plot points._

**_Warning:_**_ Swearing, sexual content, alcohol and drug references, gore, violence, and crude humor._

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Two: So He Returns<span>**

After trying to summon Gabriel a few times, I realized that it was a lost cause and that I might as well get ready for when Dean and Bobby arrived.

Thus, despite my complete and utter bewilderment, I put my equipment away and hopped into the shower before getting dressed, putting on very little make-up (I rarely needed much in my line of work), and cleaning my house a little for when company arrived—my grandmother would be rolling in her grave if I didn't. I also grabbed a couple of six packs from my basement—I never drank them, but I kept them for such cases—to bring upstairs and by the time that was all done, I heard a car pull up to my driveway.

My doorbell rang and, like an anxious puppy knowing it was their owners at the door, I quickly exited my kitchen and across the living room to answer the door. However, I hesitated just for a moment—was Dean Winchester, the man who had been like an older brother to me, be behind it alive and well?

Shaking my head, I was a _hunter_ for Christ's sake, I unlocked my front door and pulled it open.

Bobby and Dean were standing on my house's porch, but all I really saw was Dean and he hadn't changed a bit. And he was in all one piece, like he had never been ripped to shreds by Hellhounds.

Despite how much I said I wouldn't let it happen, I felt tears springing to my eyes and my throat tightened at the sight of the young man. He was here, he was _really_ here…

"D-Dean…" I managed to choke out.

Smiling that crooked smile of his, the handsome male said softly, "Heya, Barbie."

At that, in a flash, I had flung my arms around him tightly.

He stiffened, taken by surprise for a moment since I was rarely so affectionate, but then he relaxed and wrapped his own arms around me. I buried my face in his shoulder and he buried his into my hair.

I soaked in everything about him, it all being the same and things I had missed so dearly—maybe more than I realized. He was warm and muscular and smelled of his own personal musk, dirt, leather, gunpowder, apple pie, and hamburgers.

Eventually, we pulled away and flashed each other small albeit warm smiles. Then, giving the other hunter's hand a gentle squeeze, I turned to the middle-aged man with a full beard and a baseball cap perched on his head. "Hi, Bobby." I greeted kindly with a nod.

"Hi, Natalie." he gladly greeted in return.

With that, I pushed my door open further and stepped inside. I motioned the two males to come inside with a small sway of my hand. They complied and I closed the door behind them.

Soon, all three of us were gathered in my living room. Dean and Bobby were settled on my couch with beers set in front of them on the coffee table and I was by one of the windows that I had opened, a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. I lit up before inhaling deeply. All the relief of Dean being brought back to life was gone and was now replaced with the anxiety of why he was brought back causing tension in my body.

"I thought you had quit, Natalie." Dean piped up, disappointment and disapproval in his deep voice. I had quit smoking before he had been sent to Hell.

Before I could open my mouth, the oldest hunter in the room beat me to it, speaking in scolding, "She had."

I scowled, shooting him a look. "Don't gimme that, Bobby. Like you haven't been drinking a lot." He glared. "You guys drink to help, I smoke, okay? I had quit, but you and I both know that the past four months haven't been easy." Dean frowned, shifting in his seat. I took another puff before exhaling towards the open window. I continued speaking in my defense, "Besides, I don't smoke as much as I used to. Just one or two every now and then, so sue me. Not to mention, it's better than constantly popping a buncha pills to calm my headaches."

"Are you still getting those?" asked Dean curiously.

"Sometimes," I mumbled.

I inhaled one more time before snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray I placed on the windowsill. I addressed Dean, who I was still having a tiny bit of trouble with believing was really there. "Anyway," I began, crossing my arms and ankles as I leaned against the wall. "To the hot topic of the day, how the Hell are you back from…well, Hell?"

Bobby and Dean exchanged looks, grave ones, and then, peered back to me. "We were thinking you could tell us, missy." Bobby said.

I raised an eyebrow; I leaned against the wall beside the window. "…Excuse me?"

"We were wondering if you had an involvement in bringing me back from Hell." Dean elaborated, his tone scolding.

I quickly became exasperated at their accusation, my temper flaring up. "Are you insinuating that you two think that I made a deal with a Crossroads Demon to fetch you from perdition?" They didn't say anything, but they didn't have to. I got angrier. "Are you fucking kidding me? Look, I love ya, man, and I'd do anything for you, I really wanted you back, but I am not some kind dumbass, who makes deals with trash like those bastards. I've learned my lesson about getting involved with demons." I nearly hissed out.

Bobby made a face, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat while Dean shifted uncomfortably, yet he also said offensively, "…Was that a shot?"

"_Yes_," I retorted bluntly. "You and your sibling are dumbasses."

He scowled, looking ready to counter, but Bobby cut him off, "So if you didn't do it, Natalie, then who else would?"

In unison, Dean and I said, "Sam."

Bobby stared at us. "You honestly think he'd do such a thing?"

"Of course," I snorted, crossing my arms. Sam was bright guy, but when it came to his older brother, he was quite stupid. Then again, the eldest Winchester was no prize either. Like I said, dumbasses.

Dean added, "Its what I would've done."

See?

"Speaking of Sam, I tried calling him. His phone isn't working." Dean paused, swallowing a bit. "He's not…"

"He's alive," I reassured him swiftly. Immediately, my friend relaxed knowing his baby brother and last blood relative was still kicking.

"As far as we know," Bobby shortly added.

"Good," Dean nodded, running a hand down his slightly stubble face. However, his brows soon furrowed bemused when he replayed Bobby's words in his head. He glanced between us. "Wait, what do you mean "as far as we know"?"

"Neither of us have spoken to him in months."

"You mean you just let him go off on his own?"

Bobby shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "He was deadest on it."

Dean looked fairly appalled. "Bobby, you were supposed to be watchin' after him and he was supposed to be watching you, Nat."

Both Bobby and I gave the young man looks at his scathing words. I beat Bobby to the punch of retorting, "First of all, Bobby tried doing that, but you know good and well that Sam can be just as thick-headed as you, Dean. Second of all, Sammy is not my babysitter, I'm not a lil' girl anymore, I can handle myself. And thirdly, don't you be using that tone with us, Winchester; these past four months haven't exactly been a cakewalk, understand? We had to fuckin' _bury_ you."

Dean made a face. "Why did you bury me, anyway?" he inquired, not drawing attention to my previous words to that.

"We wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill," Bobby admitted for the both of us. Dean gave a nod of understanding. "But Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." lightly joked Dean.

Neither Bobby nor I laughed. "He said you needed a body when you got you back home somehow." the oldest hunter in my living room pointed out. He then, scoffed. "That's about all he said."

"Whaddya mean?"

"He was quiet. _Real_ quiet. Then, he just took off."

"Bastard," I muttered under my breath.

Oh, yeah, I didn't sound bitter or anything…

"Hasn't returned mine or Natalie's calls. We tried to find him a few times, but he don't wanna be found." Bobby claimed regrettably.

Dean looked as exasperated as we felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit, Sammy…" He sighed. "He got me home all right, but it means nothing good. Definitely bad mojo. Very bad mojo."

"Worse than a Crossroads Demon deal?" I inquired, my arms crossed over my chest and my brows creased at my temple.

"I don't know," Dean shook him head. "All I know was that the grave sight looked like a nuke went off. And there was this force…this presence…I don't know, but it uh…it blew passed me at a _Phillip_ joint. And then, _this_." Steadily, the shorthaired male shrugged off his green jacket before yanking up the left sleeve of his black T-shirt.

Instantly, Bobby and I stiffened as what marred Dean's sun-kissed skin. A handprint in puffy redness was wrapped around his shoulder. It looked like someone had grabbed him and held on tightly.

"What in the Hell…?" Bobby and I breathed, gathering around Dean to get a better look.

Dean shook his head, looking like he was having a hard believing it was there. 'Looks like some demon yanked me out or rode me out."

"But why?" Bobby queried, brows furrowed.

"To hold their end up of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal?"

Dean scowled. "Its what I would've done." he said again.

"But that doesn't look a demon did that." I admitted, running my fingers over the marring.

"What else could've done it, Natalie?" he retorted.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I couldn't answer. I had no idea what else could've made such a marking, but still…Nevertheless, despite the odd sensation in my chest, I shook my head with a sigh. "Never mind. We need to find Sam." I claimed.

He nodded. "And I know exactly how." Dean stated.

I frowned deeply. I had a _really_ bad feeling, Gabriel's words resounded in my head.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading~! Please, review!<em>


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